Savin' Me
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test? Chris/Phil. Please Review!
1. Introduction

**Title:** Savin' Me

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Chris/Phil, Jeff/Adam, etc.

**Summary:** Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Alcoholism

**Part:** 1/? – Introduction

**OOOO**

"Wait a minute, Punk. This isn't over." The GM of both Raw and Smackdown said. Phil frowned, before he turned to face John Laurinaitis. "Chris Jericho, come back out to the arena."

"What is this, Laurinaitis?" Teddy asked lowly. "He's not drunk, so you can't take his title."

John shook his head, before he looked at the ravenette to his left. He motioned to Chris. "Punk, I want you to hand that title over to Chris, _now_."

"What? No! Like Teddy said, I'm obviously not drunk. You can't take my title." Phil said.

"On the word of Detroit's finest, you are 'obviously intoxicated'. Therefore, you have disrespected the WWE and the WWE title. Hand it over to Chris, _now_." John said.

Phil's eyes narrowed. "Send them back in. I'll take the test a million times! I'm… not… drunk!"

"You don't deserve a second chance." Chris hissed.

"Shut _up_!" Phil yelled. He was so loud that it could be picked up without a microphone.

John shook his head. "There's no need to be hostile, Punk. But if you continue to refuse to do so, I'll have to have security forcibly take the belt off of you and escort you out of the arena."

Teddy frowned. "You don't have to do this, John. Have him take a breathalizer -,"

"Did I ask for your opinion, Teddy?" John asked viciously. "No? I didn't think so."

Phil turned to Chris, desperate. "You _know_ that I'm not drunk. You _know_ that I would never hurt myself like that. So don't… don't make me do this."

"I… don't… care." Chris said, each word cutting into Phil like a knife. He tried to remember that this was Chris Jericho, not Chris Irvine, but in the end that didn't really help. "You're so drunk that you can't remember your own name! Don't lie to me… to the _world_. Admit that you've become just like your father."

Phil felt like he was about to faint, and all of the blood had drained from his face. "I think I'm about to be sick…"

Chris' cold façade fell immediately. "Phil?"

"Just… take the damn title. Take it. TAKE IT!" Phil stuffed it into Chris' unwilling arms. He took a deep, shaky breath. "And I will _never_ be like my father. _Never_. And I don't need security to escort me out of the arena. I'm fully capable of doing so myself."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the arena as Phil ran off…

**OOOO**

**A/N:** I know it's short, but it's the introduction. So… what did you think? Remember to review! More reviews – faster updates!


	2. Red as Blood

**Title:** Savin' Me

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Chris/Phil, Jeff/Adam, etc.

**Summary:** Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Alcoholism, Self-Harm

**Part:** 2/? – Red as Blood

**A/N:** This is about to become _dark_, folks. I just wanted to warn you now, if you can't handle depression, blood, etc., then it is best for you not to continue with this story.

**OOOO**

Phil sat in the hotel room and stared at the marks on his wrists. The wounds were fresh, the ruined towel was somewhere on the floor, and all Phil could think was: he's won. The rock-hard exterior that Phil had worked to build for _years_… all of it had vanished in the blink of an eye, and he had done what he had sworn to never do. He had broken. Olive eyes flickered over to the blood-stained white material on the floor. Could he be that weak? He was. He was weak. He was foolish. He had messed with the snake, and had been bitten.

It was like he couldn't tell truth from fiction, fact from lie. But as he stared down at the marks, he knew. He knew that they were the only truth. He was proud to be Straight Edge. He was _proud_, damn it! So why, _why_ would Chris ever think that he would break so easily? Why would he think that he would bend under the pressure? Maybe because he _had_ broken. He had shattered into millions of tiny pieces… so many that he didn't even know who he was when he looked into the mirror anymore. He was the same little boy, afraid to face his father. He hadn't altered.

From the towel on the floor, to the marks on his wrists, to the halves of the keycard that sat on the foot of the bed – his eyes took all of this in… and yet he saw nothing. It was like his mind was hazed over, too lost to the dance of pain to really think clearly. What Chris had said was obviously the truth. By now, the wounds had sealed over and all that remained were scabs and scars. Carefully, he removed two black fingerless gloves from his suitcase and slid them on. They had wide red 'X's on them, just like the tape he wore in his matches. They hid the marks.

He tossed the blade and the towel into his suitcase. Chris would never know, because he never looked their anyway. Besides, it would be a cold day in hell before he charmed the bitch of a receptionist into handing him another key card. Phil smirked as he kicked the two halves of the plastic off of the bed. But that smirk fell as he twisted his wrist and reopened one of the wounds. He hissed as blood slowly trickled down his palm and between his fingers. The burn overwhelmed him, and he felt his eyes start to become heavy…

**OOOO**

"The next contest is set for one fall! Introducing first, CM Punk!" The crowd went wild as they welcomed the former WWE Champion into the arena. CM Punk just walked down to the ring slowly, not really in the mindset for a match.

"And his opponent, the new WWE Champion, Chris Jericho!" The blond Canadian was met with a chorus of 'boos' as he made his way down to the ring, smirking the entire time.

The ref called for the match to start, but Phil made no move to advance on his husband. In fact, he tried to avoid contact with him as much as possible. He kept his olive eyes downcast as he skirted around the ring, his hands raised weakly as if inviting Chris to lock-up. But Chris could see that something had changed in Phil's eyes. They were devoid of emotion, like he was some kind of doll. And this made Chris wary as well. Without emotion in his eyes, Phil was unreadable and therefore, unpredictable.

Finally, the crowd's jeering wormed underneath his skin and he made his move, locking-up with the smaller man. Phil let out a pain-filled mewl, kicking frantically and Chris' body to try and alleviate the pressure on his wrists. Chris saw his pain and quickly backed him up into the turnbuckle, breaking the hold, only to slap him harshly on the chest. Phil winced, falling to his knees from what most would consider a small blow. While his mind was on other things, Phil slid out and tried to make a mad dash for the locker rooms.

This wasn't like Phil at all. Chris was about to chase after him when, all of a sudden, the GM of both Raw and SmackDown came out and manhandled Phil. His thumbs dug into the still-raw flesh of Phil's wrists, which were hidden beneath tape and the fingerless gloves… but he could feel them start to bleed. The GM all but threw him back into the ring, his body rolling between the top and middle ropes, and he landed with a _thud_. It should have been interference, but somehow the ref hadn't seen.

"Phil?" Chris asked softly so that the cameras wouldn't pick it up. Gently, he knelt down beside the crumpled form of his husband and reached for his arms. "Phil, baby, you're bleeding…"

However, before he could even touch the hurt ravenette, Phil landed a swift punch to the side of his head. Quickly, Phil stumbled to his feet and reached down, struggling to lift Chris' seemingly gargantuan form. Easing him back into the turnbuckle, Phil made his way to the other side of the ring and landed a high knee in Chris' chest. Now, with the wind knocked out of him, he fell onto his back and threw Chris springboard style. The blond landed in a heap on the other side of the canvas, knocked out cold.

But just as Phil went for the pin, John Laurinaitis came up from behind and hit the ref over the back of the head. He fell down onto the canvas face-first. And then John started to let loose on the former WWE Champion, hitting him until he bloodied his face and yanked at his lip ring. Phil howled in pain, but no-one did anything to stop him. And just when the audience was sure that no more damage could be done, the GM slammed his heel down on Phil's balls. Phil's eyes rolled back in his head, and he barely even realized that Chris' body had been laid over his.

"One… Two… Three!" The ref counted, and the bell was rung.

"The winner of this match: Chris Jericho!" The announcer said.

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Please Review!


	3. The Storm

**Title:** Savin' Me

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Chris/Phil, Jeff/Adam, ?/Chris

**Summary:** Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone. I also don't own the song.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Alcoholism, Self-Harm

**Part: **3/? - The Storm

**OOOO**

**Prison gates won't open up for me,**

**On these hands and knees I'm crawling.**

**All I reach for you.**

**I'm terrified of these four walls,**

**These iron bars can't hold my soul, **

**And all I need is you.**

**Come, please, I'm calling.**

**OOOO**

"Phil, baby, you're all bloody." Chris stated the obvious, his blue eyes focused on the bloodied arms of his husband. But he couldn't see the marks… he couldn't see where the blood came from. "Are you hurt?"

Phil removed the ice from his nose, which had been battered but, remarkably, had not broken. "I'm fine. But what do you care, anyway? You showed me how much you cared when you took my title from me."

Chris frowned. "First of all, you _threw_ your title at me. And second, of course I care about you. I love you."

Phil chuckled bitterly, and it sounded incredibly nasally with the pressure on his nose. "I'm supposed to believe that you actually love me? That's a lie if I ever heard one."

"Why are you acting like this, baby-boy? I know you're not a brat, so don't act like one." Chris chastised.

"A brat, huh? I've been called a lot of stuff, Irvine, but never a brat. Bonus points for creativity." Phil smirked.

Chris felt the frustration rise within him and threaten to boil over, but he wouldn't let that happen. "Let me see your arms, Phil."

"No." Phil retorted cooly.

"Phillip Jack Brooks, let me see your fucking arms _now_." It was not a question, it was a _statement_. And Phil couldn't have cared less if he tried.

"No." Phil repeated.

"Phil…" Chris warned lowly. If he had to, he would head over there and forcibly remove the fingerless gloves and the tape to see what was hurting his baby.

"Why should I let the man who hurts me constantly come anywhere near me? Quite frankly, I wish that you had never come back to the WWE. I wish you had stayed with Fozzy, or found some other way to spend your time like DWTS. 'Cause our distant relationship wasn't this painful!" Phil exclaimed sadly.

Chris didn't answer him. Was that how Phil truly felt? Did he really want Chris as far away from him as possible? Or was it only the immense pain that he felt in his face and back talking? He didn't really want to take the time to find out. If he stayed here and continued with this conversation, he would slip-up and seriously hurt Phil and their relationship. And he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did that. Sadly, he cast one last look at Phil's arms. If there was still trouble with them by SmackDown, he resolved to restart the questions.

Phil watched as he left, silently thankful that he hadn't removed the material that covered his wrists. When the door closed behind him, Phil quickly stood up, walked over, and locked it. And when he was sure that there would be no more unwanted visitors, he tossed the bloodied material into his gym bag and walked over to the sink. He turned the water on as cold as it would come and stuffed his arms under the faucet. Flincing when the cold liquid splashed on the wounds, he watched as red water swirled down the drain. Slowly, the flow calmed until it was almost non-existent.

The events from earlier replayed in his mind as he fell back against the bathroom wall, the water in the sink still running. He pulled the blade out of his gym bag. He didn't know why he had brought the blade with him… after all; he had known that he was booked to lose. In fact, Creative planned to make him look like an idiot for quite some time. Whether this was at the GM's insistence or not, he didn't know. Weakly, he wrestled with his boots and socks, before he tossed them into an abandoned corner. And then he stared at his unblemished calves.

"I'm stronger than this… I'm stronger than this… I'm stronger than this… I'm stronger than this…" the blade trembled in his hand as he continued to stare at his calves. "I'm stronger than this… I'm stronger than this…"

His body rocked back and forth on its own accord, the blade flat against his skin. He didn't need this. He didn't need to do this. But then his mind started to wander, officially breaking his concentration. He thought back to Chris calling the world's attention to his father's alcoholism, making up lies about his precious sister's situation, questioned his mother's morals, and called him a bastard. Chris didn't love him. Chris didn't love him at all. Maybe he never had. Phil flinched as he turned the blade and made the first cut, so low that it would be covered by his boots.

A thin stream of blood oozed from the wound, covering his leg quickly and dividing at his ankle. He wanted Chris. Chris didn't want him. Chris didn't love him. That was enough to create two more cuts, each a little longer and a little deeper then the last. That same old, tired towel – now bleached to hide the stains – was used to dry his tears and stop the bloodflow. Lazily, he cleaned the mess from the floor as well. Putting a little bit of guaze over the wounds, he taped it up and tenderly made to stand.

Chris was right. The WWE Championship was all that he had left. And now, Chris had taken his all.

**OOOO**

Phil was about to slide his keycard and crash in the hotel room he shared with Chris for a well-deserved night's sleep, when he heard high-pitched laughter come from inside. And he knew for a fact that Chris, multi-talented as he was, just couldn't make his voice quite _that_ high. He had a woman in there. So, that was how he really felt about Phil. Now that he had Phil's title, what they shared meant nothing. Chris was cheating on him. But Phil was never one to jump to conclusions… he needed hard-core evidence.

Quickly, he slid his keycard and flinched when the loud beep echoed in the silence. However, it didn't seem to disturb the two love-birds. So, he opened the door, his eyes trying to adjust to the overall darkness. There was a woman, with long dark hair and vibrant eyes, that was helping herself to the liquor in their cooler. From what he could see, she wasn't wearing much. And then, Chris came around the corner with an open beer bottle in hand, naked from the waist up, dressed in his favorite leather pants.

"Cheers." He said to her, before their bottles _clinked_ noisily.

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Please Review!


	4. Talk to Me

**Title:** Savin' Me

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Chris/Phil, Jeff/Adam, ?/Chris, Matt/AJ

**Summary:** Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone. I also don't own the song.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Alcoholism, Self-Harm

**Part:** 4/? – Talk to Me

**OOOO**

Jeff cuddled Adam's frame to his chest, the taller man's body still wet from the storm outside. The blond had decided that he wanted to take a walk out in the rain, and he didn't even like rain, and had become lost in the unfamiliar territory that was Detroit. In fact, the only reason that the two were in Detroit was because Jeff had wanted to visit with his older brother, Matt, and his new fiancée, AJ. And the blond had come with because, frankly, he didn't like to be without Jeff for extended stretches of time.

Currently, AJ had a hard storyline with Daniel Bryan. Somehow, the sweet brunette had managed to send the entire WWE universe on an emotional rollercoaster, which ended with her break-down and ultimate attack on Natalya on a recent SmackDown. As the storyline went, the GM had insisted that she take some time off. This, of course, was the perfect time for Matt and AJ to start to fix their wedding. AJ had recruited Adam to help her to pick out a dress and flowers, while Jeff and Matt had time to talk.

But now, it was late, most likely morning, and Jeff and Adam were all alone. AJ and Matt had retired hours ago, and were most likely dead to the world upstairs. Adam smirked at the idea of it. It felt like an eternity since he had last been able to touch his ravenette, and he would do so now, even if it killed him. The blond shifted beneath the towel that Jeff had wrapped him up in, leaning up and planting a loving kiss on Jeff's lips. Slowly, he climbed onto the smaller man and secured his arms around Jeff's tattooed neck.

"I've missed you so much, baby." Adam said when they broke away for air. And then he started to bite at Jeff's skin softly, and he left a trail of love-bites down to Jeff's collar bone.

"Fuck…" Jeff hissed, rolling his hips up to meet Adam's gentle ruts. The blond let out a sluttish moan, digging his blunt nails into Jeff's shirt. "You have such a fucking talented mouth, baby…"

Adam's hands hovered over the buttons on Jeff's shirt. "Let me help you with this."

However, he barely even had the first button undone when there was a knock on the door. Hazel eyes flickered over to the clock. 3:30 AM. Who the hell would come to their house – which wasn't even really _their_ house – at 3:30 AM? But, whoever it was, they would have to wait. Adam was horny, damn it! And he hadn't been laid in two weeks! Surely, he should be the sole object of Jeff's attention. But no such luck. Jeff carefully unraveled Adam from his body and set him on the couch beside him.

"Jeffy!" Adam whined.

"It could be important, Adam. And we don't want them to be out in the storm." Jeff said.

Finally, when Jeff opened the door, a totally soaked and tearful Phil threw himself at him. Jeff barely had enough time to open his arms to catch him, but he did stumble back and help the nearly limp man to come inside. His body shook with frantic sobs, and he was talking, but his words were horribly slurred and Jeff couldn't make out what he was saying. So Jeff just stroked his back soothingly, trying to find out what was wrong with his best friend. He kicked the door shut and fell to his knees with Phil, who continued to cry.

Before he had arrived, Phil had taken off the gloves and the tape. After several moments, Jeff's eyes fell on the marks. Neither had noticed that, in this time, Adam had come up from behind and had seen it all. Tenderly, Jeff put the man at arm's length and carefully took hold of Phil's wrists. It wasn't like Phil hadn't had this problem before. It was just that, before, it had never become this bad. Before, the pain was manifested in tattoos and piercings. Now, it was self-harm. And he couldn't continue like this.

"J-Jeff." Phil looked up at him with trusting olive eyes. "I… I need you to do me a favor. I need you to take my razor blade. I can't… I can't…

Jeff nodded slowly. "Shh… it's okay, baby-boy. Where's the blade?"

Phil's tears continued to roll down his cheeks uncontrollably. "It's in my bag."

Jeff took the bag that had fallen off of Phil's shoulder. "Is this it?" Jeff held it up, and Phil nodded. "Okay. I'm going to hide this, and you won't have to worry about it. Will that make you feel better?"

Phil nodded, still refusing to release Jeff. "Mmhmm."

Quickly, Jeff carried Phil into the den and sent Adam upstairs for a change of clothes. He helped the smaller man out of his clothes and tossed them somewhere on the floor, not really caring as to where they landed. Using the same towel that he had used to dry off Adam, he scrubbed Phil's body down and dressed him in the new clothes. The shirt was almost too small, but he was practically swimming in Matt's jeans. Before the pants had slid all the way on, Jeff had seen the scabs on his calf as well. He frowned, but didn't comment.

"You're safe now, Philly. Just sleep. Do you want us to call Chris for you?" Jeff asked slowly.

Phil's eyes shot open and he shook his head frantically. "No! No, no, no! Whatever you do, don't… call… Chris…"

Jeff nodded. "Okay."

**OOOO**

"Thank you again for coming on such short notice, Selene." Chris smiled at the twenty-six-year-old, who offered him a shy smile in return. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you." Selene said, before she took a seat at the kitchen table.

Chris looked down at the beer bottle in his hands. "I know that you have seen the storyline between Phil and I. I can honestly say that it's one of the most difficult storylines that I've ever had. You know that I would never hurt Phil intentionally…"

Selene nodded. "Of course. I've seen first-hand how much you love my brother. Sure, you have some harsh words to say to him on Raw… but that's only a show. In the end, your actions at home speak louder than your words on TV."

"Thank you." Chris said, before he took a swig of beer. "But, actually, the real reason that I asked you to come here was to talk about a much more serious matter which involves your brother…"

Selene's smile fell. "Is he in trouble? Is he hurt?"

"I don't know, because he won't talk to me." Chris frowned, looking down at the table. "I know this is hard, but I need to know. Phil could be in serious danger."

"I'll tell you whatever you need to know." Selene said immediately.

"Has Phil ever had a problem with depression?"

Selene was silent for a moment, and in that time Chris feared that she had decided not to answer his question. But then her head snapped up and she looked him directly in the eye. "Yes."

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Okay… I promise that the next chapter will be longer, but I have to practice my cello. So, we'll leave off there for now. Please Review!


	5. Well Informed

**Title:** Savin' Me

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Chris/Phil, Jeff/Adam, ?/Chris, Matt/AJ

**Summary:** Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone. I also don't own the song.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Alcoholism, Self-Harm

**Part:** 5/? – Well Informed

**OOOO**

"All of the information that you found on our father was correct. He did have severe issues with alcohol, and Phil often suffered for it. As you know, this was the reason that Phil chose to cut smoking, drugs, and alcohol out of his life." Selene said. "But he was still scarred on the inside, and so he turned to tattoos."

Chris nodded. He had heard a lot of this from Phil, but the ravenette never ventured into too much detail. "He liked the form of self-expression. It made him feel free."

"Exactly." Selene confirmed. "It made him feel free from the world. That was also the reason that he dyed his hair. Granted, he was never as adventurous as Jeff when it came to his hair, it was still an outlet for his frustration."

Chris looked down at the beer in his hands. "He was better, wasn't he?" Selene nodded. "I'm sure that my little announcement to the world didn't help him at all. And I just continued on with it… I could see him break a little every week, and I just continued on with it!"

"Chris!" Selene exclaimed, before he laid her small hand over his to calm him. "This isn't your fault. You didn't know."

Chris shook his head. "Don't you understand? That _is_ the problem! I'm his husband, I _should_ have known. I hurt him week after week. I let him walk away from me. Hell, I don't even know where he is now."

Selene met his eyes. "Chris. _Chris!_ Even if you were the best husband in the world, who could read-minds and foresee the future, you wouldn't be able to know _all_. It's one mistake. It doesn't damn you."

"I hurt him." Chris muttered beneath his breath, as if he realized this for the first time.

"Believe it or not, Chris – none of that matters. All of that is in the past. You can choose to let it haunt you constantly, or you can become better because of it." Selene said earnestly. "If you talked to Phil about this, I'm sure that he would hear you out. My brother is rather fond of second chances."

Chris went to take another swallow of beer, but found that his bottle was empty. Before he could rise out of his seat, Selene took the bottle over and disposed of it, before she returned with a fresh one. "Thank you."

"It's the least that I could do for my favorite brother-in-law." Selene smiled fondly.

"I'm your _only_ brother-in-law." Chris retorted sarcastically.

"True." Selene raised her own bottle of alcohol and carefully touched it to Chris'. "Here's to a better future between you and Phil. Bottoms up."

"Bottoms up." Chris said.

**OOOO**

**(Extreme Rules PPV)**

**OOOO**

Phil, who had once looked forward to his match with Chris at the Extreme Rules PPV, went into it with the dismal frown of a man who knew that he was to lose… and that he was to lose _terribly_. He wasn't ready for the total assault that met him out there in front of his family and friends, and, to be honest, it kind of scared him. John Laureinitis watched from the sidelines, and Phil was afraid of what he could do should Chris throw him over the ropes. But, as it would turn out, he wouldn't have to be afraid of the GM of both Raw and SmackDown.

No, this loss had been entirely his fault. He turned his back on Chris for seconds, mere _seconds_, and turned around in time to be met with a beer bottle to the face. Blood and beer went _everywhere_. Phil could even taste some of the horrible liquid in his mouth. Limply, his body fell down on the canvas and Chris covered him for the three count. The crowd was infuriated by this, but the GM simply clapped slowly from his seat behind the announcer's table. Chris flashed him the infamous Jericho smirk, before he rolled out under the bottom rope and started for the ramp.

But, for some reason or another, Phil didn't move. His olive-colored eyes remained closed as he laid there, his back on the sharp shards of the beer bottle. Blood slowly bubbled to the surface of his skin and coated the delicately tanned flesh. Chris stared down at him, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. Phil felt bile rise in his throat and the look of pity that filled those cerulean depths. And then, it was like something in him snapped. He wished that he had his razor, but it was still hidden in Jeff and Adam's custody.

So, he did the next best thing. He lashed out at Chris. It was all Chris' fault, after all. If Chris hadn't opened up the old wounds, he wouldn't have fresh scars on his wrists and his calves. He beat him down until Chris didn't even try to stand anymore, he kicked him until bruises marred his alabaster skin, and he knocked him down into the bloody glass. Seconds turned to minutes, but Chris didn't move. All that could be seen was the subtle rise and fall of his chest. That's when the tears started to pour out of his eyes.

The audience cheered on his actions, but Phil couldn't believe what he had just done. He slid out of the ring and ran off as fast as he could, tearing the tape off of his wrists as he ran. The small burn that came with the removal of the tape, and the subsequent wet feeling that came with it told him that he had reopened old wounds. But he didn't care, and he was too far up the ramp for anyone to see. When he finally reached his locker room, he slammed the door closed and locked it behind him. And then, he shoved his fist into the mirror.

His eyes widened as he removed a thick shard from the sink…

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Cliffhanger! Please Review!


	6. Save Me: An Interlude

**Title:** Savin' Me

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Chris/Phil, Jeff/Adam, ?/Chris, Matt/AJ

**Summary:** Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone. I also don't own the song.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Alcoholism, Self-Harm

**Part:** 6/? – Save Me: An Interlude

**OOOO**

Slowly, Phil walked into the shower stall and closed the door behind him. He extended his free hand out to turn the water on as hot as it would come, and it blistered his skin until thick red marks distorted the alabaster flesh. And then, still fully clothed, he sat down underneath the full blast from the showerhead. Lazily, he lifted the shard and stared at the silver surface. Chris knew that he was from a defective family, and from the way he talked, he believed that Phil was defective as well. He didn't want Phil anymore. He had lied to take his title, and then he had sealed away his love. What did Phil have left to live for?

With one last moment of hesitation, Phil looked down at the broken shard and contemplated throwing it away. He was stronger than this. He had overcome the pain before, and he could do it a second time. But then, Chris' voice filled his head. The taunts heavily laced with sarcasm and revulsion clouded his mind and disturbed the process of rationalization. Chris would _want_ him to do this. He would _want_ him to destroy himself, so that he wouldn't have to bother with the divorce. He _wanted_ Phil to self-destruct. Why else would he act this way? And then there was the hell that he had endured from John Laureinitis. It was better this way for everyone…

Without further delay, Phil took the shard to his wrist and cut downward. Each and every old wound busted under the pressure, and soon a thin line of crimson blossomed from the wounded area. All too soon, that thin line turned into a river. It flowed down his arm and onto the floor, where the constant flow of water turned it pinkish before it washed down the drain. Dizziness overcame him suddenly, and the shard fell from his hand. He rested his head on the wall of the shower stall, the room around him slowly flowing in and out of focus. Unable to hold himself upright any longer, he fell to the floor. Olive eyes slowly slid closed as the water started to cool.

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Yes, I know it's short. But it leaves a nice, healthy cliffhanger. Tune in to the next chapter to find out if Phil will be found, or if this is the end… Please Review!


	7. Found

**Title:** Savin' Me

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Chris/Phil, Jeff/Adam, ?/Chris, Matt/AJ

**Summary:** Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone. I also don't own the song.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Alcoholism, Self-Harm

**Part:** 7/? - Found

* * *

The ref tried to assist Chris to his feet, but he yanked his arm out of the older man's hold. Chris Jericho didn't need help from _anyone._ He climbed to his feet on his own and brushed the broken glass from his frame, before he slid out of the ring and stalked toward the back with as much dignity as he could muster. What the hell was _that_ out there? Phil had been acting oddly ever since the GM of _both _Raw and SmackDown forced him to relinquish his title. Chris still felt awful about that. Obviously, Phil wasn't drunk. So, really, the GM had no means to do so...

Once Chris was out of the view of the cameras, he let his shoulders sag and finally allowed his pain to show on his face. He took a breath and tried to enter the locker room that he shared with Phil, but found that the door was locked. This in itself was unusual. Even when Phil was furious with him, he had _never_ locked him out of their locker room before. Hotel room, sure. But _never_ their shared locker room. Chris' stomach twisted as he knocked on the door. After a few moments of silence, he knew that he wouldn't recieve an answer.

That's when he heard the shower running in the back. His heart hammered madly in his chest. Something about this wasn't right. Taking a few steps back, he rammed his left shoulder into the door and forced the lock. Stumbling inside, the first thing he saw were the broken shards from the mirror that had fallen on the floor. His heart almost stopped when he saw the blood that had collected on the few shards that had remained connected to the actual frame of the mirror. Somehow, he knew that Phil had broken that mirror.

Fear caused his heart to clench as he continued to walk further into the locker room and around into the actual shower stall. He pushed the door open, and his heart stopped. Phil was stretched out on the floor, and though the flow of blood had stopped, the marks on his arm and wist clearly indicated what he had done. He was unconscious, his head tilted to the side as water showered his face. Without thinking, he pulled Phil out of the water and into his arms. Wrapping his shirt around the wounded arm, he tried to wake up the smaller ravenette.

"Baby? Baby, please wake up. C'mon, open those beautiful olive eyes and look at me. I know you're still in there. Please, wake up. _Please_." Chris ranted, gently rocking Phil back and forth and kissing his forehead with all of the affection that he could muster.

Phil's head lolled to the side, but otherwise he made no movement or sound.

"Phil, baby, _please_." He nestled his head in the crook of Phil's neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his husband. "Please... You can't leave me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do without you. Please, open your eyes. _Please_..."

"C-Chrissy..." Phil whispered, barely able to make his voice become any louder.

Chris cradled him closer. "Please, baby, stay awake. I need you to keep those beautiful eyes open."

"Mmm... it's so cold. You're warm. D-Don't leave me, Chrissy. It hurts..." Phil trailed off as his eyes slid closed.

"Phil!" Chris yelled, but it was useless. Quickly, he set Phil back on the floor and searched for a towel. Taking one off of the wrack, he wrapped the still-clothed man in it and lifted him into his arms. His back protested, but he didn't dwell on it. "Don't worry, Philly. You'll be safe soon, okay? I promise."

Quickly, Chris walked down the near-abandoned hallways, in search of anyone in a black shirt that signified the medical team. Phil's body was limp in his arms, and the wound underneath his shirt had started to secreate blood again. Carefully, Chris bent down and kissed his husband's forehead. He needed to find someone and _fast_. Finally, he found a woman on the medical team and called out to her. She turned around, startled, but then her eyes fell on Phil and they widened. She called out to the other members of the medical team nearby, and one man brought a gurney over.

Chris rested the muscular body on the bed and watched as they strapped him in, not even having to look underneath the shirt to know what was there. They worked diligently and effeciently, making sure that Phil was as comfortable as he possibly could be before they started out for the ambulance. For a second, Chris just stood there. He wasn't sure if Phil would even _want_ him there, with how poorly he had treated him. But then he remembered how Phil had begged him to stay with him, and his heart broke. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself and ran outside to catch the ambulance before it left for the hospital...

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hope that this makes up for the cliffhanger that I left y'all on last chapter! Please remember to review! Reviews - Faster Updates!


	8. Confessions and Forgiveness

**Title:** Savin' Me

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Chris/Phil, Jeff/Adam, Matt/AJ

**Summary:** Even though Phil passed his public field sobriety test, the GM still stripped him of his title. Humiliated and heartbroken, Phil knows exactly who to blame. Chris Jericho. Can their relationship survive this test?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone. I also don't own the song.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Alcoholism, Self-Harm

**Part:** 8/8 - Confessions and Forgiveness

* * *

Phil was fully awake and coherent by the time that Chris arrived at the hospital several hours later. When he saw Chris, he bowed his head and diverted his attention to the stark white blanket on the bed. Slowly, Chris claimed the EZ-Chair at his husband's bedside and looked him over once. His wounded arm was stitched and heavily wrapped to ward off infection, but it seemed as if he was able to move it around okay. His hands trembled as he tried to ward off the tears. He hated to seem weak in his husband's eyes.

What Phil didn't understand was that, to Chris, he had never been weak. It had only been a storyline taken a little too far. And over the three hours that it had taken Chris to finally work up the courage to come to the hospital, he had cursed himself over and over for not seeing how much he was _hurting_ his husband. This was Phil. The man that he had sworn to love and protect for the rest of his life. And what had he done? He had driven him to this! He should have never said that he would do this idiotic storyline. He could have saved them both so much heartache.

"Philly." Chris called out to his husband softly and he noted the not-so-subtle tremor that chased down Phil's body at the sound of his voice. "Please, Phil... look at me. I know that we need to talk. But I can't say what I need to say unless I can look you in the eye."

Phil shook his head. "No. I d-don't want to." His hands clenched into fists, and he hissed when it pulled on the stitches. "You're here to tell me how weak I am, right? You're here to tell me what a useless, pathetic man I am. And I don't want to hear it."

"No, Phil. No. You're not useless or pathetic. You have so many virtues, so many talents. I'm sorry that I tried to take those away from you." Chris said.

"What?" Phil's eyes widened, and for a minute, he turned to face Chris. The shock was obvious on his face.

"I said that I'm sorry, Philly. I never meant to hurt you." Chris said honestly.

A flicker of emotion showed in Phil's hollow olive eyes. No matter what the situation, Chris never said 'I'm sorry' for anything. It seemed to strike a chord within the former WWE champion, because he suddenly became more receptive to what Chris had to say. But now, it was Chris that wouldn't look at Phil. He was so ashamed of what he had done. Words just started to pour out of his mouth. He apologized for everything. No incident was too small to mention. Phil was amazed that he could remember half of what he did, because Phil certainly hadn't.

Somewhere in that time, tears had started to trickle down Chris' face. He rocked back and forth in his EZ-Chair, his arms wrapped around his midsection as a way to comfort himself. Phil watched all of this. His eyes never left his husband as confession after confession left his mouth. He told him stories that he had never heard. He answered questions that Phil had asked at the start of their relationship, which Chris had always refused to answer. There was no dark corner to hide behind anymore. Chris bared it all.

Slowly, Phil reached out with his unharmed arm and touched the back of his hand to Chris' tear-stained face. He swiped his thumb over the tears, effectively clearing them from his husband's face. Chris knew how much Phil hated to see him cry, and even now, it was no exception. Chris leaned into the touch, before he gently took hold of the wrist and tilted his head around so that he could kiss the palm of his hand. And for the first time in the weeks since all of this started, Phil offered him a smile. A _real_ smile. And it warmed Chris' heart.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry, baby." Chris fell on his knees beside Phil's hospital bed, kissing every inch of that arm that he could reach. "You don't know how scared I was when I found you on the floor like that. I was so afraid that I had lost you. I should've taken better care of you. I'm sorry."

"Shh, Chris. It's okay. It's my fault too. I should have come to talk to you, instead of taking drastic measures." Phil said.

But it was almost as if Chris didn't hear him, because he continued to babble on nonsensically. "I can relinquish the title. That way our feud can't continue. I would do that for you, baby. I would leave the WWE for you, just so they could never pit us against each other again. Just please, _please_, never scare me like that again..."

Phil tenderly stroked Chris' soft blond hair. "I know that you would do that, baby. But I don't want you to. You love to wrestle and it would be cruel to take that from you."

"That bastard John Laurianitis tried to take you from me. I can't let that happen." Chris said, tears still slowly streaking down his face.

Phil shook his head. "He won't, baby. I don't want to die. How could I, and leave you behind?"

Chris looked down at his husband's heavily wrapped arm, before his eyes flickered up and finally locked with Phil's. He saw the heated pool of emotion that roamed in those olive eyes. And from that one look, he knew that Phil had told him the truth. He loved him, and didn't intend to leave him anytime soon. In that moment, it was as if a clamp released his lungs and he could breathe easily again. His husband was safe and sound, and according to the doctors, would make a full recovery and could return to the ring in about a month. But he would need anti-depressants and counseling.

"I love you so much, baby. I can't tell you how sorry I am. But I will spend the rest of our lives trying to make this up to you." Chris swore honestly. Phil flashed him a small smile.

"I love you too." He said.

* * *

**One Year Later**

Phil and Chris lay out on the back terrace of the house that they had bought together exactly one month ago. It was located in the heart of Phil's hometown of Chicago, but they also had a home in Canada so Chris could visit with his family. Both had decided to take a small break from wrestling to see the world from a different viewpoint, and next week they would be leaving for a cruise through Europe. They needed time to rekindle their relationship and to celebrate the fact that, after eleven and a half months of counseling, Phil had been released and his medication had been cut in half.

On the recommendation of the counselor, Phil and Chris had adopted a kitten which they named LJ (Lioness of Jericho). LJ was something that Phil could talk to when Chris wasn't around, something that wouldn't judge him for his opinions or talk back to him. And it had worked well. Currently, LJ rested one half of her little body on Chris' stomach and the other half on Phil's arm. She purred contently as Phil reached around to stroke at the soft tufts of fur between her tall ears.

Chris leaned over and kissed Phil softly. "Thank you."

Phil raised a dark eyebrow and turned as much as he dared without disturbing LJ. "For what?"

"For being my husband, sticking by me even though I can be a total asshole, the list is endless... But sometimes, I think you deserve better than me." Phil wasn't the only one who was learning to talk about his emotions.

Phil rolled his eyes. "Don't say that, dummy. If anyone deserves better, it's you."

Chris chuckled dryly. "We're quite a pair, aren't we? We both think that we deserve better. So, I suppose that that means we're perfect for each other." Chris smiled at his husband.

"I concur." Phil answered dramatically.

"You're so _weird_, Phillip Jack Brooks-Irvine. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Phil smirked. "That's a good thing, 'cause you're stuck with me."

Chris' smile never faltered. "I don't consider it stuck."

Phil smiled, shifting LJ over so that she fully lay on Chris, and then turned over and buried his face in his husband's neck. The kitten continued to purr contentedly, because their little family had never been more complete then it was in that moment. Chris lazily placed kisses all over Phil's face, from his forehead to his chin and back again. Phil chuckled, wrapping both of his arms around the arm that was closest to him and nuzzling Chris' neck lovingly. Everything was perfect.

"I love you." Chris said, watching as Phil closed his eyes.

"I love you too." Phil answered, before he fell into a light doze, perfectly content with the world.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's it. I know it's a little bit shorter than some of my other stories, but I thought that this would be a nice place to end it. So, please remember to review! Thanks for Reading!


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